


Little Favors

by charlesworthy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:36:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesworthy/pseuds/charlesworthy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The red favor, a slash across the wrist, an improv arm-band.  It was meant as a gift.  Hawke just wasn't sure if it would be accepted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently there's a small text referencing a red favor that Gamlen gave Charade's mother. A tradition? I got this idea near instantly. So here's just a few things about the red favor we see Isabela and Fenris wear.

Leandra approched her child as they were just about to leave. She stood in the threshold to the entering room, smiling softly. Her voice was just as soft as she called.

“Wait, dear. I've something for you.”

The metal of Hawke's armor clinked as they turned to face their mother. They had places to be, and that was exactly why their mother chose now to strike. It was far less likely to end in an argument when one of them needed some where to be. Years of being a mother had taught Leandra that much, at least.

Though she didn't know if an argument _could_ stem from the conversation she intended to incite, she knew that Hawke was one to break one's already-established ideas in any case. That was what Hawkes did, and she firmly believed that was one reason she could never quite know her eldest.

“What is it?” they asked, and they didn't sound gruff so Leandra assumed that meant they wouldn't argue. She stepped forward, holding out her hands. They held a small red cloth, like a scarf. Hawke glanced to it, but said nothing. Their prior question hung in the air.

“It's... tradition,” Leandra answered. She knew that she was no longer an Amell by name, but she _felt_ Amell. The house around her, the familiar rooms, even the smell of the Amells lingered all around her. She had been reminded by both her children that they were Hawkes now, but surely the Hawkes could use a few traditions here and there. “Not your father's, mind. But mine.”

Her eldest turned, shifting. They were listening now, but remained silent. She took this opportunity to move closer to them, offering the scarf like a gift.

She smiled, trying for a real, true smile. She never thought she could truly achieve one since the death of Malcolm, and it was a rare occasion that she made the effort. Regardless, she wanted to, because this would be one of the few familial moments that they could have now.

“I've seen how you act around your friends,” here she said the word 'friends' with a subtle hint, a little _more_ than friends implied. “And I know you'd never want me to choose any one for you.” She paused, allowing herself a small laugh. “Maker knows I've tried talking to the eligible partners. None of them could handle you, and you'd never settle.”

Hawke smiled.

“So you give this to the one you would spend forever with, as a gift. That way you can be with them even when they're away, and they'll know you're thinking of them still.” Leandra smiled as Hawke gently plucked the favor from her hand, glancing at it.

“I'm not sure that there's any one, Mother,” they replied.

“Oh hush,” Leandra said. “There isn't any one in this city that shouldn't be interested in you, darling. But you should save that for the one you're interested in. Don't let any one take it from you. Let them know what it means.”

“I've got to go,” Hawke said suddenly, backing into the door and reaching for the handle.

Leandra smiled, gently, and held up her hand in a wave. “I'll have dinner ready for you by the time you get back, dear.”

Hawke nodded, and left.

 

\--

 

From the flair across their nose to the Amell crest, and even in the bird graffiti littering Kirkwall's streets, every one knew red was Hawke's color. The eccentric noble was  _red_ – wild, familiar, and stable. The scarf would undeniably be a blazing cliche. Hawke could mark whoever they wanted. Perhaps Mother was right, they could have any one.

“Something you wanna share with the rest of us, Hawke?” Varric's gruff tone came from across the table, smile plain both in his tone and on his face.

Hawke shook their head, smiling and tucking the small scarf into their pack. “I'm feeling lucky tonight,” they said. “I'm raising.”

“Suit yourself,” Isabela said, grinning. “That just makes it easier for me to rob you blind. It's much more fun when they're willing.”

 

 


	2. Merrill keeps it hidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But she's determined to show it off in another way, a surprising way, one that shines in the sun and makes her glow with a radiance impossible for a human to reach.

Merrill was not red. She was green. She was gentle, soothing, connected to the ground beneath her feet in a way Hawke would never understand. Hawke would come to understand many things about her, such as the meaning of her Dalish vallaslin and how she regarded it, and how her pact with demons was simply a tool for her use, that she held no more regard for the spirits than a discarded sock, and that was where, she said, Anders went wrong.

 

Hawke would come to fully appreciate how _small_ she was in their arms. Her body was muscled lithely from a life of running and climbing trees and long walks in the forest, but compared to Hawke she was tiny and soft, belying the forces she could conjure with a staff.

 

It was the morning after their night together Hawke had decided to offer her the favor. That night had seen them fall asleep in each other's arms, whispering soft 'I love you's and other phrases neither was sure they'd ever have some one to say it to. In the morning, Hawke's Mabari had woken the two up with a happy bark and his huge tongue. Hawke was mad, but Merrill thought it was funny and cute, and her chiming giggle was enough to not only pull Hawke from their anger, but help them realize just how _far_ they had fallen for the elf.

 

“I should really get going,” Merrill said, once they were both dressed and the Mabari had been fed. “If I'm not constantly cleaning my home in the Alienage, it'll start a dust storm, I'm sure.”

 

Normally Hawke might chuckle. Today, they just stared.

 

Merrill didn't like it. “Because, you know, there's so much dust there. I don't even have any windows, but it gets in anyway and causes a huge mess, and you know, I'd hate for you to see it when next you come over, so...”

 

She blushed, nearly squirming under Hawke's indescipherable gaze.

 

“Merrill, there's something I'd like to give you.”

 

The elf's ears twitched, and she canted her head to the side. She had a cute way of looking similarly to a puppy, with her large eyes and gentle demeanour.

 

“Y-yes? It's not anything big is it? I hope it won't be hard to carry it back to the Alienage.”

 

Hawke paused, confused at what she could possibly be thinking, but let it slide. It was another one of her quirks to confuse every one with her confusion, and it certainly didn't change Hawke's mind regardless.

 

“No, it's... Hold on.”

 

Hawke... didn't actually know where it _was_. They'd put it aside for a rainy day, so to speak, and now it was fantastically disappeared. Of course this would happen.

 

They had to rustle around their things for a solid five minutes before finding the small scarf, and when they finally did, they grinned and held it out to Merrill. “Here. This is for you.”

 

“...A hankerchief?”

 

“No... It's...”

 

“It's a pretty color, Hawke, but I'm not sure I've anything that will look nice with it.”

 

Hawke sighed. “It's a family tradition,” they started. “It means... I'd like to spend the rest of my life with you.”

 

Merrill's hands flew to her face, covering her mouth. “Y-you mean always?” she said.

 

“Uh, yeah, that's... That's the point, Merrill.”

 

The dalish elf made some kind of sound similar to a mouse. “Ohh, I can't accept that, you might... Might find some one else to give it to, some one like you.”

 

Hawke smiled. They had a fantastic way of looking genuine and sarcastic at the same time. Somehow their mouth could hit the perfect threshold between smirk and smile, where you could see they meant it, but it still had that seductive tint.

 

Everything Hawke was was tinted red in the same light. Maybe purple, or blue, as they saw fit, but everything was red.

 

“I don't care about being with a human, Merrill. I care about being with you.”

 

Merrill felt like crying. “Ohh, thank you, vhenan!”

 

She threw herself at Hawke, wrapping them in a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Hawke didn't see her for a long while. They asked around, but no one at the Hanged Man had any clue where Merrill had gone. Isabela was even at a loss, though she stood up immediately upon hearing she was missing and swore to go “out and look for Kitten”. Unfortunately, she was too drunk by this point, and her feet fell out from under her.

 

When they finally found the elf, she was waiting patiently in the entrance of Hawke Manor, wearing a beautiful dalish outfit made of whites and blues... If Hawke didn't know any better, they might think the Maker had sent one of His angels.

 

“What's this then?” they said, doing their best to keep a level, even voice. They could fake that part, but they couldn't hide their blush.

 

“Vhenan!”

 

Merrill rushed towards them, stepping up on her tip-toes to place a chaste kiss on their cheek.

 

“Is this... Alright?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Ohh, do humans not have a special dress for the occasion? I'm so sorry! I should have told you ahead of time so you'd be ready too...” She mumbled some more, pulling away from Hawke and folding into herself shyly.

 

Hawke merely chuckled. “Well, whatever it is, you look stunning, Merrill.”

 

She blushed. “D-do I? You're not just saying that, are you? No, of course you're not. You're not...

 

“This is... My pledge to you, Vhenan. That I am yours for the rest of our lives, that you've made me such a happy, happy woman...”

 

They weren't sure how to reply. A few quips rose to mind, but it wasn't right to meet her sincerity with sarcasm. “Merrill, I...”

 

Merril once again reached up to hug Hawke, pressing her cheek close to the human's.

 

“Emma ar'lath, ma vhenan.”

 

Hawke didn't know what it meant, but they had a pretty good guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to finish something


End file.
